


It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Dubious Science, Eggpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Oviposition, due to Kanaya and Feferi and what they planned behind the scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan had always been that once you came into your first fertility cycle, you’d ultimately spend it traveling between his hive and your concupiscent quadrants, should you have them at that point.</p>
<p>You just hadn’t expected it to play out quite like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pepperdant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperdant/gifts).



> I couldn't resist throwing this together when I read my first prompt. Mind the tags, lovelies, some of this is not for the faint of heart. They don't call me the Prince of Feels for nothing. Ja ne!

####  Karkat: Escape the Wild Oliveblood.

Well that is certainly a thing you’re attempting to do, douchefuck.

Pain lances through your side, you can’t breathe it’s so sharp. You’re pretty sure that round nicked where your grubscars should have been, would have been if you weren’t a candy-blooded mutant freak straddling the top and bottom most rungs of the hemospectrum like some kind of acrobatic circus stunt walker and the hemospectrum was your wire.

You’d like to take credit for that analogy but the truth of it is your palemate came up with it all on his own, which since it has to do with circus freaks shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does coming from the soper-addled cranial meats of his thinkpan.

Where were you? Oh right, pain in your not-grubscars.

You cry out, sliding around the end of the line of boulders that marks the edge of the cliff overlooking the beach. There’s a path that winds its way down the sheer, craggy, face that few people know about, and even fewer would dare attempt to navigate. Even in full dark it’s tricky as shit, and the owner of the beach below is well-known for his fits of righteous MOTHERFUCKING highblood RAGE.

He’s just shy of ten feet tall now that he’s molted into his adult form, with a full three feet of wicked horn spiraling up on top of that. Terezi clocked him at damn near thirty miles per hour, and Feferi says he has the lung capacity of a skywhale. He’s one of the noble elite that dares challenge seadwellers in their natural habitat, and it’s a literal death sentence for just about anyone to set foot on this beach, even if he does say it’s “all motherfuckin chill, bro”.

So why are you risking life and limb, barreling down the cliff against the sunrise into certain death? Because that gangly homicidal maniac in circus paint also happens to be your moirail and even if he’s raging there’s a 100% chance he’ll turn it on the good-for-nothing asshole oliveblood taking potshots at your glute for fun.

You should have known it was going to be impossible to hide your blood color forever, even if you are close friends with the Empress-to-be. Especially once you and your friends started molting for the last time. Kanaya knew it first, even before you’d been ready to say anything, because Nepeta molted before you. Then Terezi molted, then Vriska, then _Eridan_ , and because of that they put it together.

It was impossible for you to have been a tyrian living where you lived, and being friends with Feferi the way you were. The two of you would have tried to cull each other the second you met in person for the first time. It was just something about that bloodcolor, two of them couldn’t be in the same ocean together without seeking each other out in a fight to the death. The very fact that Feferi had survived her sisters to reach adult molt alone was enough to make just about everybody on Alternia agree that she had the best shot at becoming the next empress.

But getting back to bloodcolor, yours specifically, Kanaya knew first because she’s a jadeblood, they always know that sort of thing. It’s part of their training to work in the brooding caverns. All she had to do, once she joined their ranks, was track your wriggling date and she could tell. So, you’d gone to Gamzee about it. Kanaya had chewed your ear off, certain your moirail was going to think like a highblood first and your palemate second, if he thought second at all. But he’d surprised you both, pulling a Cult of the Sufferer necklace out from under his spoor stained shirt.

“He was up and the most miraculous of motherfucking miracles, Karbro.” He’d said.

And since then the plan had always been that once you came into your first fertility cycle, you’d ultimately spend it traveling between his hive and your concupiscent quadrants, should you have them at that point.

You just hadn’t expected it to play out quite like this.

The olive fucker must be more stupid than you thought. He’s crashing down the cliff when you reach the gravelly sand and sprint towards the tent-shaped hive at the other end of the beach, just about the high tide line. You hear him stop and load his rifle again, the shot missing your ear by millimeters. Sand sprays up into your face and you have to wipe your eyes to get your vision back. You sputter, panting and tripping over your feet as a second spray of sand and water warns you that he’s closing the gap.

You’d turn and face him if your sickles were any good for distance, but the bastard’s a sniper. His range is longer than Eridan’s, and that fishfaced fucker could hit a skywhale between the eyes at a hundred kliks. Only the twilight of dawn, and this guy’s shitty accuracy, cover you.

“G-Gamzee!!” You cry, lunging for the steps.

A stone shifts under your food and the next thing you know, you have a mouthful of sand and something huge is sailing over your head. The roar of an enraged highblood covers the sound of the rifle going off again. Then there’s the impact of steel hitting flesh and sprays of olive grubsauce fly out from around your moirail’s back where he’s blocking your vision of the brutality he’s dishing out on your assailant.

It’s a good half an hour before he’s done and twilight has slid all the way into sunrise when he stands up straighter to turn towards you. It’s hard to see him with the way the sky is making everything brighter. Much longer and you both risk going blind. But he lumbers forward, his entire front dripping olive, teeth bare, eyes deep orange, and twitching with aftershocks of rage.

You reach out and pap his cheek twice, disregarding the smeared grease paint, “Shoosh.”

He turns into your hand snuffling and nipping at your skin to make absolutely sure you’re you then his stuttering purr rumbles up from his thorax like a can of rusty nails in a turbine.

“C’mon, you sorry excuse for a murder clown,” your smile is lopsided, like his, “let’s get you clean before we both turn into piles of shitty fishfood that’s been in the thermal hull too long.”

You take him inside without complaint and he gladly follows you. First to the ablution chamber to wash the blood off of both of you; then the nutritionblock for some of the frozen grubloaf you left her for him the last time you came to stay; and finally to his respiteblock to curl up in his pile of stupid shitty horns for a meowbeast nap before what you’ve come to accept as your nightly routine punches you through the shameglobes.

It’s somewhere around noon when it wakes you. You’re hotter than usual. Everything is sticky and your stomach feels like you were shot there instead of across your defective gills. You curl away from your moirail because he can’t do for you what Equius and Sollux did. You don’t even want to think about what they did, it’ll make things worse.

####  Karkat: Think about what they did.

Too late, you already are.

You spent a week with each of them, and once Sollux even invited Feferi to come help out for a day. Fourteen straight nights with your concupiscent quadrants, pailing in as many depraved and blush-worthy ways as your twisted thinkpans could come up with. But none of it helped in the long run. The feeling came back every time.

Which is technically why you’re here with Gamzee, except he can’t do _that_ for you, and _that_ is the only thing that makes it stop for a few hours. Not many, but a few.

Oh fuck! You can already feel it. Under your boxers, your bulge, stubby little thing that it is, curling on itself, dripping like crazy. That was what gave you away to the olive. He scented you, just like…oh god. Gamzee…no…

His hands are what you feel first. One slips under you, through the horn pile and up your front to your rumblespheres. Like the rest of you, there’s not much there, mostly hard muscles, and his giant palm is big enough to roll them both in one motion. He’s up under your shirt and slips his other hand down over the bloated base of your belly where your shameglobes lie. His claws trace the edges of your bulge sheathe and you can’t help the pleading moan that crawls, fight your windpipe all the way, up out of your thoracic cavity.

“G-Gamzee… this is…” You’re ashamed to say you whimper.

“Shoosh, motherfucker. Solbro gave me the mirthful word when you up and set out. S’all good.”

The deep rumble of his voice _does things_ to your nook that you will never admit to anyone in a million sweeps, even you live that long.

“B-but… what about…” your breath comes short, your body giving in to the quadrant shift gladly, “…ngh! Tavros!”

“S’all good, motherfucker.” He just repeats with that sexy as fucking shameglobes voice _right_ in your ear.

Then the tips of his claws dip into your nook and your mind blanks out. Somehow your boxers go missing and he’s spreading your nook lips, your upper leg hooked over his elbow and the lanky fucker cants his hips so that his bulge pokes into the steamy opening.

Gamzee is huge. Not only is he twice as tall as you, he’s proportional. One hand can cover your whole thorax. You can fit both feet into one of his shoes. Twice as many teeth, and more hair than he literally knows what to do with. And naturally this extends to certain _other parts_ of his anatomy as well.

So when he enters you, inch after inch after fucking inch, you swear loud enough that your ancestors blush. You weren’t even this full when Sollux and Feferi got their trio of tentacles involved. You’re seeing stars, breathing through your teeth, and only peripherally aware of him petting down your front from rumblespheres to bulge rhythmically like you were a barkbeast.

Slowly you become aware that he’s talking again.

“…you so full, motherfucker. Ain’t a thing, bro. Gonna make this tiny little belly swell with miracles, don’t you worry none.”

It should make you pull away, recoil in horror. He’s going to do _what_ to your stomach?! But it doesn’t. Instead you find yourself grinding against him, moaning and begging him to do just that.

Though you’re stretched to capacity and beyond you can feel your shameglobes tightening. Pleasure overrides the pain thanks to the gentle undulations radiating through your nook. Your genetic retention bladder flutters as you feel your climax nearing and he groans against your neck, holding you tighter, his bulge pulsing. Your head falls back against his shoulder, exposing your throat.

His massive horns rub against your tiny stubs thanks to the angle.

Then everything is awash with purple and you can feel yourself cumming, though the plug of his bulge means that the slurry gets redirected back into your nook in a wave of heat against his much cooler material. And it floods you!

Your hands try to snap to your belly but he catches them both, holding your arms out straight in front of you, his gigantic fingers wrapped around both wrists firmly, but not bruising. He uses the other massive paw to pet your stomach, the skin stretched to the point of over-sensitivity.

You don’t know why but you’re retaining the slurry you’ve collected from the, now, four trolls, including your moirail and the empress-to-be on top of your heart and spade quadmates. It feels heavy and odd, sloshing slightly when you move. You’d hoped with Gamzee you could have figured out how to trigger the release reflex, and you’d get it into a pail like a normal troll, in spite of it being nearly a fortnight since you first were filled by Equius. But no, not only is Gamzee not helping you push it out, he’s deliberately holding it in there with his bulge, forcing the appendage to act like a plug somehow.

It’s a key difference to both of the other two, who tried everything they could think of to get you to drain it. Including several suctioning tools and Sollux’ psionics. They’d been able to clean out what had been in your nook, but a good portion of all three pails of slurry had stayed trapped within your bladder. And far from it being a problem, up until now it had made the urge to pail like hopbeasts STRONGER!

That urge is fading slightly now. It makes you wonder if whatever your moirail is doing is why. You have no idea what retaining _all_ of the slurry has to do with your fertility cycle, because every schoolfeeding you’ve ever read on the subject informed you that you were to stimulate the sphincter behind your shameglobes once you—the receiving partner—was positioned over a slurry collection receptacle, commonly called a bucket, and the retained material would drain into it to be set out for the Imperial Drones to collect at the end of your fertility cycle. But this…

This is the kinkiest shit you’ve ever had the embarrassing fortune to experience, and the sheer _shame_ of it all is trying to cut through your pleasant afterglow.

“Gamzee…”

You’re trying to work up the coherency to really let him have it for this, but he’s shooshing you and sleep…

Yeah that’s a thing that’s happening right now.

####  Karkat: Wake up.

Huh? What? No. You don’t want to. Five more minutes Dad. Please. You don’t wanna go to schoolfeeding.

####  Karkat: No! Now!

Ugh! Fine! Fucking stupid… You bet it’s not even sunset yet. Should be illegal to wake a troll before moonrise at the very least!

You make a mental note to tell Feferi the next time you talk to her that she should make that a law, that no one is allowed to wake a sleeping troll before moonrise, maybe not even before midnight! It’s not like you have anything to do right now anyway.

Your gastric sack churns and you groan, your mental tirade against waking cut off in the process. Reaching out your hand makes the sopor around you slosh oddly against your body.

Wait. Sopor?

You glare without opening your eyes, instinctively aware that even a crack of your lids would have you hurling what little you ate last night all over the floor. That confuses you further because the last thing you remember was chowing down on one full half of the frozen grubloaf you’d reheated after Gamzee took down that oliveblood that was trying to cull you. So, by all accounts of your memory you should be…wait a second.

It’s starting to come back to you. Flashes of pleasure so intense that your cheeks flush bright red. Hands. Huge, cool skinned, hands. All over your body. And your nook! Over and over and over! Oh sweet gelatinous dribbles from the mother grub’s vestigial third oral sphincter!

The haze of fog surrounding your thinkpan begins to recede and you actually dare to open your eyes.

You find yourself in Gamzee’s recuperacoon, laying mostly on your side because it’s at a different angle than your own, and glancing around his respiteblock tells you only that he was there before, not where he is now. His horn pile has been shoved to one side of the block, his clothes and some pie tins are scattered about the other. But in the middle there’s a strangely open space, just wide enough and long enough for a ten-foot-tall troll to stretch out.

Has the bulgemunch been sleeping on the floor while you were out? That imbecilic whimsical piece of shit!

You need to go find him, chew him a new asshole and set a few million things straight in his hallucinogenic thinkpan.

You push yourself up, and note that it takes entirely too much effort to do so. Grunting a little, you shut your eyes against the nausea that threatens your gastric sack again, but you manage to steady yourself, sitting on the edge of the coon like a champ, legs dangling over the side and dripping sopor onto the stained mat designed specifically for that purpose. You just sort of let yourself drip for a couple of minutes because the idea of shaking off like you normally do does _not_ in any way appeal to your currently sensitive innards.

Once the feeling of purging your insides slides back down your nutrient chute, you open your eyes again.

And nearly scream!

####  Karkat: Flip your shit.

Thank you, yes, insufferable douchemonkey, that is exactly what you are doing!

You’re huge!! You’re fucking huge!!

Okay, so maybe not hive-shaking huge, or even too-big-to-walk huge, but compared to your normally flat, if slightly soft, tenderly sculpted abdominals you look like you’ve swallowed a motherfucking basketball!

Horrified you poke at it. That is to say, your stomach.

It’s hard, but not without a bit of give. Heavy, which explains the effort you had to exert to get upright, but lighter than your training weights, which you’re currently thanking because jegus fuck if you hadn’t been working with Equius to gain muscle mass you think you probably would be coon-bound. Your belly is round, and leaning forward to try and see over it produces a slight shifting sensation, as though whatever is inside of you is floating in liquid. The thing, or rather things, because as you get to your feet you can feel multiple somethings pressing against your liquid waste retention bladder, don’t seem to be moving on their own, but now that you’re standing, aside from needing to piss like a racing hoofbeast, you realize it doesn’t look like you swallowed them… It looks like somebody shoved them up through your nook!

You gulp. Hard. Leaning slightly to the side to look at your naked form as best you can without a mirror. You don’t seem to have gained any weight anywhere else much, and judging by your useless opercula you’ve actually _lost_ some. All of what little body fat you had collecting on your gut as something of a protective outer pad between your skin and the whatever-they-are inside you.

You spot your boxers on the floor nearby, and start to reach for them, but the nausea and extra weight immediately inform you that this is a _very_ bad idea. So you’ll have to go nude for now. Thank whatever deities actually exist that you don’t piss from your bulge. You can’t imagine how you’d reach it to aim if you had to do that like some of the midbloods do.

####  Karkat: Look for your moirail.

No. You’re going to take ablutions first, if that’s alright with the shitty narrator! The murderclown can wait until after you’ve relieved the pressure of your bladder and washed the excess sopor off, fuck you very much! Excess sopor dries crusty and sticky, and stains even your skin if you don’t get rid of it right away; and you have no desire to release your liquid waste all over Gamzee’s floor, even if it does need to be scrubbed to within an inch of its good-for-nothing life.

So, you do so. Finding nearly orgasmic relief in the load gaper, and precious moments of relaxation in the ablutions chamber.

Afterwards, you’re even more curious that your palemate hasn’t burst in on you while you were soaping yourself up. He has a habit of wanting to wash your hair that you think stems from the fact that you make him purr so hard he almost rattles his bones when you do his. But you haven’t even heard his shitty humming since you woke up. It’s making you equal parts nervous and pissed off. Because if he’s up and left you here, all by yourself, after promising Sollux, Equius, Feferi, and Kanaya that you were going to be fine with him, you think you’ll probably break something. Most likely your foot. On his ass.

You waddle your way from the ablutions block to the entertainment block, ears pricked for any sign of life nearby, and your hand at the ready to decaptchlogue a sickle, just in case there’s trouble. The only time you ever heard your own hive this quiet was when Crabdad was gone for a food run and some taintchafing spazz maggot had broken into your relaxation block to make off with your grubcube system! You’d gutted them badly enough that Crabdad made you repaint the walls to cover up their shitty blood color.

As it turns out though, you need not have worried about intruders here because there’s literally no one in the entire hive. When the entertainment block turns up empty, you search the nutrition block, and his relaxation block, and the spare respite block, and you even poke your nose out of his door to glance around at the beach. Something keeps you from actually going outside completely, and you don’t question it, as it’s a healthy paranoia that’s kept you alive so far, but you lean out far enough that you can see no one is even on the path leading up the side of the cliff.

The moons are in a different position though. Mother Moon is too far south and Empress Moon is too close to her to still be sixth dark season’s equinox. It has to be at least the first dim season, somewhere, if you’re reading the constellations right, around the twelfth bilunar perigee. That means you’ve been out of it for somewhere around fifteen nights!!

You gasp a little and lean back against the door, a hand flying to your belly. Suddenly a few things, like your dramatic weight redistribution, make more sense. It still doesn’t answer where your palemate is, but at least now you know why you knew instinctively that you hadn’t eaten much lately.

Shutting the door you wonder if your other quads know anything about what’s going on.

####  Karkat: Create Memo.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] opened memo on board FRUITY RUMPUS ASSHOLE FACTORY.

twinArmageddons [TA] responded to memo.  
TA: 2eriiou2ly KK you can’t call the board 2omethiing le22 obviiou2ly you?  
CG: NO I CAN’T DOUCHEFUCK NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE FUCKING HELL JUST HAPPENED THE LAST HALF-PERIGEE.  
grimAuxiliatrix [GA] responded to memo.  
GA: Calm Down Karkat You’ve Been In What We Call Heat  
TA: gee you thiink KN?  
GA: Your Sarcasm Is Not Appreciated Sollux  
GA: I’m Sure Karkat Is Quite Distressed By This Whole Thing And Your Blackflirting At Him Is The Least Productive Answer He Could Receive At This Time  
centaursTesticle [CT] responded to memo.  
CT: D --> Indeed  
CT: D --> Our mutual quadrantmate has only just regained his sanity, you would do well to remember where your place in all of this lies, Captor  
TA: 2tuff a bulge iin iit hoofbea2t!  
TA: my riiliing hiim up ii2 the be2t thiing for hiim riight now.  
TA: what el2e ii2 he goiing two do, 2ulk?  
TA: iit’2 not liike he ha2 any hobbiie2 he’2 any good at two pa22 the tiime whiile your freakii2h 2ciience experiiment de2troy2 all hope2 of hiim ever 2eeiing hii2 toe2 ever agaiin.  
GA: Sollux That Has Nothing To Do With This!  
CT: D --> Of all the vulgar and disgusting things you could come up with, Captor, that was e%ceptionally 100d  
TA: what’2 the matter ponyboy, am ii makiing you 2weat?  
CT: D --> You would wish that to be the case, but I have no interest in helping you attempt black infidelity on my matesprit  
CT: D --> Kindly, stop that  
TA: eheheheheheheheheh  
CG: WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE FOR THE TWO OF YOU TO STUFF SOMETHING INTO YOUR OWN SQUAWKBISTERS FOR FIVE GODDAMNED MINUTES SO SOMEONE COULD GIVE OUT SOME ACTUAL REAL INFORMATION ABOUT WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?  
CG: IS THAT A THING THAT CAN HAPPEN?  
CG: BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE A REALLY GREAT THING TO HAVE HAPPEN RIGHT NOW.  
CG: SINCE I’M SITTING HERE IN MY WRIGGLING DAY SUIT BECAUSE NOTHING IN MY FUCKING WARDROBIFIER FITS ANYMORE AND THE GODDAMN MURDERCLOWN ISN’T ANYWHERE TO BE FOUND THAT I COULD BORROW ONE OF HIS TENT-SIZED TEE-SHIRTS EVEN IF THEY ARE ALL STAINED PERMANENTLY WITH SOPOR AND SMELLS OF THREE PERIGEE OLD GYM SOCKS.  
CG: SO IS THAT A THING THAT’S HAPPENING?  
CG: YOU BOTH ARE SHUTTING UP SO KANAYA, WHO IS THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS ANY SEMBLANCE OF CLUE ABOUT WHAT EXACTLY MY FAILTROLL OF A MOIRAIL DID WHEN HE SHOVED HIS GODDAMNED BULGE UP MY NOOK, CAN EXPLAIN THIS??  
CT: D --> I am sorry, Karkat  
CT: D --> Please allow me to apologize profusely when ne%t we see each other face to face, I merely meant to protect you from further stress as I am more than aware of how infurryating, apologies I mean infuriating, your moirail can be at times  
TA: yeah, KK.  
TA: ju2t chiillax.  
TA: We aren’t your quad2 for nothiing.  
TA: iif that drug-addiict ha2 hurt you iin any way ii’ll fly out there riight now and teach hiim a le22on about fuckiing wiith my kii2me2ii2.  
CG: THAT ISN’T NECESSARY.  
CG: HE ISN’T HURTING ME, HE JUST ISN’T HERE RIGHT NOW, AND I’M FUCKING STARVING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN GOD ONLY KNOWS HOW LONG.  
CG: NOT THAT I NEED TO ADD MORE FUCKING FAT TO MY FIGURE.  
CG: I’M SURE FUTURE ME WILL HAVE PLENTY OF CHOICE WORDS TO SAY TO ME FOR RUINING OUR SWEEPS OF TRAINING AND CONDITIONING LIKE THIS.  
CG: GOD I’M GOING TO STOP BEFORE I GET EVEN MORE SELF-LOATHING AND GUM UP EVERYTHING IN ALL OF MY QUADRANTS.  
CG: SOMEONE SHOULD REALLY STEP IN AND TELL ME TO COOL MY RUMBLESPHERES WHEN I START SPEWING THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY.  
CG: HOW DO YOU TWO EVEN PUT UP WITH ME? I DON’T EVEN KNOW.  
GA: At At The Risk Of Encroaching On Your Already Filled Diamond Karkat Shoosh  
GA: You Aren’t Being Fair To Yourself And If You Are Hungry You Should Eat  
GA: I Will Attempt To Explain Everything I Can In As Brief A Manner As Possible While You Are Retrieving Food  
GA: Is That Acceptable To Everyone  
CG: YEAH GO AHEAD.  
TA: 2ure.  
CT: D --> That will be fine  
GA: Very Well Then  
GA: As You Are No Doubt Aware By Now Karkat’s Mutation Places Him In An Ambiguous Pardon The Word Grey Area On The Hemospectrum  
GA: Strictly Speaking He Is Not Officially On It And Therein Lays The Fascinating Mystery Of His Genetics Themselves  
GA: In History Only One Other Troll Has Been Discovered And Reached Adult Molt With This Bloodcolor  
GA: By Now We All Know The Story Of How He Was The Leader Of That Unsuccessful Rebellion Involving Everyone’s Ancestors  
GA: What We Of The Brooding Caverns Were Able To Learn Is That He Was Only Ever Able To Contribute To The Incestuous Slurry Once In His Life Before Being Caught  
GA: The Part That Makes It Most Interesting Is That He Did Not Contribute Genetic Material As All Other Trolls Do  
GA: It’s Actually A Very Engrossing About How His Lusus The Dolorosa Snuck Him Into The Brooding Caverns Without Alerting The Drones Or The Other Cavernworkers  
GA: Near As We Can Figure She Must Have Achieved Her Status As A Rainbowdrinker At That Point Because Otherwise How Else Could She Have Walked So Softly While Carrying The Sufferer In Her Arms  
GA: It Just Isn’t Possible Any Other Way  
GA: No Other Type Of Troll Moves Fast Enough And Is Strong Enough To Do So At The Same Time  
TA: KN, the poiint?  
GA: Oh Right Yes  
GA: The Point Is That He Did Not Contribute Slurry  
CT: D --> Yes, you said that  
GA: He Contributed Eggs!  
CG: WHAT?!  
CT: D --> I beg your pardon  
TA: The fuck!?  
GA: I Know I Know  
GA: I Was Shocked And Appalled At The Information As Well  
GA: The Mere Thought Of Troll Bearing Their Own Young Is Preposterous And Scandalous At Best  
GA: But After Careful Study And Much Deliberation Feferi And I Came To The Conclusion That This Was Something We Needed To Explore  
TA: by whiich 2he mean2 FF palejammed wiith her for mo2t of a niight after you were here for the three2ome, KK.  
CT: D --> I did not need to hear that  
TA: 2tuff iit blueblood.  
TA: iit diidn’t help anyway.  
TA: he wa2 2tiill iin heat afterward2.  
CG: SOLLUX YOU BULGEMUNCHING SOCIOPATHIC NOOK FOR BRAINS, SHUT THE HELL UP!!  
CG: THAT WASN’T EVEN ANYTHING I PLANNED!  
CG: YOU SPRUNG IT ON ME OUT OF NOWHERE, AND SO HELP ME GOD I WILL GET YOU BACK FOR THAT!!  
TA: ehehehe  
TA: ii’m countiing on iit.  
TA: iit’ll be the perfect chance for me two 2how you who’2 got the better bulge.  
TA: here’2 a hiint.  
TA: iit’2 me.  
CT: D --> You will stop that  
TA: how about no.  
CT: D --> Yes  
TA: no.  
CT: D --> Yes  
TA: no.  
CG: OH MY GOD CAN I NOT HAVE SINGLE MEMO WHERE EVERYTHING GO TO COMPLETE AND UTTER HOOFBEASTSHIT EVERY FUCKING TIME???  
CG: ALL WE NEED NOW IS THAT PSYCHOTIC MOIRAIL OF YOURS SOLLUX AND BE RIGHT AS RAIN FOR TRIP TO RAINBOW FRUITY RUMPUS PARTYTOWN OR WHATEVER FUCKED UP BULLSHIT SHE'S GOT DYING IN HER NOOK THIS PERIGEE.  
TA: hey, you leave TZ out of thii2.  
TA: thii2 ii2 about you and your freakyass biiology.  
CG: YOU’RE ONE TO TALK MR DOUBLE BULGE AND NOOK!  
CT: D --> Oh good grief  
TA: what?  
TA: doe2 the iidea of twiice the troll junk get you all hot and bothered, 2weatma2ter?  
CG: LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS TOO!  
GA: I Have More To Explain If You All Don’t Mind  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: GO AHEAD.  
GA: Thank You Karkat.  
GA: As You May Not Be Aware Thanks To The Fleet Being Exempt From Slurry Donation And The Condescence’s Insistence On Keeping Most Adult Trolls From The Homeworld The Incestuous Slurry The Mothergrub Has To Mix Right Now Is Severely Thinned  
GA: We Think This Is Why So Many More Mutations Are Showing Up In The Current Generations Of Trolls Now  
GA: It’s Not Just Karkat’s Bloodcolor And Sollux’ Anatomy  
GA: Aradia Being Able To Come Back From The Dead Like A Rainbowdrinker  
GA: Vriska’s Vision Eight-Fold  
GA: And Even Equius’ Strength  
CT: D --> STRONGNESS  
GA: Yes Sorry  
GA: Equius’ STRONGNESS  
GA: These Things Aren’t Just Coincidence  
GA: The Other Jadebloods And I Believe It’s A Direct Reaction To The Narrow Genepool Thanks To The Cullings And Limited Numbers Of Fertilely Mature Trolls  
CG: WHAT’S YOUR POINT, KANAYA?  
CG: I SWEAR YOU’RE GETTING TO BE AS LONG-WINDED AS THE SPIDERBITCH.  
GA: Ah Yes Well After Your Heat Was Unrelieved By Both Quadrants Feferi And I Consulted Eridan’s Library For Information About The Signless  
GA: And Gamzee Was Able To Provide Us Access To The Inner Manuscripts Of The Cult Of The Sufferer  
GA: This Was How We Discovered The Records About His Bearing A Clutch Of Eggs  
GA: They Were From All Over The Hemospectrum And According To The Blood Samples Attached To The Documents Their Genetic Code Was Cleaner More Pure Than Any We Currently See Emerging From The Brooding Caverns  
GA: In Fact It Was More Pure Than Any We Have Seen In Nearly A Hundred Sweeps  
GA: The Mothergrub Just Cannot Mix The Slurry As Well As The Sufferer Could  
GA: What Little We Know About The Process Involved Is That It Is Something Very Similar To What Feferi Saw In You Karkat  
GA: So We Can Guess That He Took The Slurry Within Himself And Incubated It Until It Bonded Into Wriggler Eggs Then Removed Them And Placed Them In The Brooding Caverns To Hatch And Undergo The Trials.  
CG: ………  
CT: D --> I think I am going to be sick  
TA: hold up there a miinute, zahhak, ii’ll come wiith you.  
GA: I Apologize For The Graphic Nature Of What I’ve Said  
CG: MOTHERFUCKER.  
GA: What?  
TA: ordiinariily ii applaud your shuttiing up KK, but 2eriiou2ly what?  
CT: D --> Karkat  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: I NEEDED TO SCREAM AT SOMETHING OUT LOUD FOR A WHILE SINCE MY UNFETTERED PSYCHEDELIC FUCKING FREAKOUT WEASEL IDIOT ON DRUGS OF A MOIRAIL ISN’T HERE FOR ME TO PUNCH HIM IN THE SHAMEGLOBES MULTIPLE TIMES UNTIL I FEEL BETTER.  
GA: I’m Afraid I Still Don’t Quite Understand  
CT: D --> Loathe though I am to question your practices with your other quadrants, Karkat, what has the highb100d done to deserve such wrath  
TA: eheheheheheheheheheheh  
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP SOLLUX OR YOU’RE FUCKING NEXT!  
TA: briing iit, KK.  
TA: ii look forward two you waddliing your 2wollen a22 all the way here two my hiive2tem wiith nothiing two wear.  
GA: Sollux!  
CG: LEAVE IT, KANAYA, HE’S RIGHT.  
CG: REVEL IN IT LIKE THE DISORDERED SHITRINSER YOU ARE, CAPTOR, WE’LL SEE WHO’S LAUGHING ONCE ALL OF THIS GRUBFISTED THREE-RING MURDERCLOWN CIRCUS IS OVER.  
TA: 2ure 2ure, larda22, ii’ll look forward two iit.  
CG has banned TA from responding to memo.  
CT: D --> Perhaps now we can get an actual answer regarding why you seem intent on blackflirting with your moirail  
GA: I Don’t Think That’s What That Was Equius But I Agree An Explanation Would Be Nice Karkat  
CG: HE FUCKING PLANNED HE WAS MUTTERING SHIT INTO MY EAR WHEN HE WAS STUFFING HIS BULGE UP MY NOOK.  
CT: D --> I don’t think I want to hear about that part  
CT: D --> It’s quite vulgar and borders on our heart too closely for my comfort  
CT: D --> Please inform the highb100d of this  
CG: TRUST ME, LOVE, I DON’T WANT TO BE IN ANY SORT OF FLUSH RELATIONSHIP WITH A DOUCHEBRAINED CHUCKLEFUCK LIKE HIM.  
CG: HE’S PITIFUL AS SHIT, BUT IF I HADN’T BEEN IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FERTILITY CYCLE I WOULD HAVE SLICED HIS BULGE OFF WITH MY SICKLE JUST FOR TOUCHING ME IN A NON-PALE MANNER.  
CT: D --> Thank you, flushmate  
CT: D --> <3  
CG: <3  
CT: D --> But the question remains, what now  
CG: I HAVE NO IDEA.  
GA: I Believe I Can Help With That.  
CT: D --> I had forgotten you were still reading this, Maryam  
CT: D --> I apologize for our blatant flushed emotions poured all over the message board  
GA: The Impression You Have About My Being Disturbed By Your Romance Is Enjoyable But False  
GA: Please Continue As You Wish  
GA: I Shall Simply Wait Here Until You Are Finished  
CT: D --> How 100d  
CG: KANAYA STOP BEING A VOYUER FOR THIRTY SECONDS AND FINISH EXPLAINING WHAT HAPPENS NOW THAT MY GOOD FOR NOTHING MOIRAIL HAS INFLATED BY GENETIC MATERIAL BLADDER LIKE A POORLY CONCEALED WATER LATEX PARTY DECORATION.  
GA: Well The Other Jadebloods And I Have Come To The Conclusion That Your Fertility Cycle Could Not Have Been Completed Without His Forcing Your Slurry To Remain Inside You  
GA: It Is Why You Have Been Mentally Incapacitated For The Past Fortnight. In The Brooding Cavern Circles We Refer To That As The Donations Having Taken  
GA: Which Means In About Two Perigees’ Time You Will Produce A Clutch Of Eggs To Be Transferred To The Care Of The Mothergrub And The Egg Tending Drones Here Among The Caverns  
GA: And At That Point Your Job Will Be Complete  
GA: The Rest Will Be Up To The Wrigglers Inside The Eggs As All Grubs Must Go Through The Trials  
CG: NAUSEATING THOUGHTS OF WRIGGLERS WITHIN MY GUTS ASIDE, YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT I HAVE TO SOMEHOW EXTRACT THIS SHIT ONCE IT’S DONE INCUBATING???  
CG: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW TO DO THAT?!  
CG: AND WHEN?  
CG: I DON’T THINK I’M CUT OUT FOR THIS, KANAYA.  
CG: YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG TROLL.  
CG: YOU NEED TO TAKE THEM OUT AND DO SOMETHING WITH THEM, GIVE THEM TO SOMEONE ELSE, SOMEONE WHO ISN'T AN ABSOLUTE FUCK UP AT EVERYTHING THEY EVER DO EVER.  
GA: I Have Every Confidence In You Karkat  
GA: You’re Very Good At Listening To Your Instincts And According To The Studies We’ve Done With The Records We Have It’s Very Likely That The Reason This Works And Works So Well Is Because It’s A Throwback To Previous Form Of Reproduction  
GA: One Where The Mothergrub Was Entirely Unnecessary Until After The Eggs Were Laid  
GA: And Possibly Not Even Then  
GA: Don’t You See Karkat  
GA: This Could Be The Answer To The Problems We’re Having With The Slurry  
GA: Your One Mutation May Eradicate All Of The Others  
GA: Never Again Will A Grub Be Hatched Unable To Hold Their Own Utensils And Drinking Glasses!!  
GA: Think Of How Wonderful That Would Be For Your Descendants  
CT: D --> Much as I am thoroughly disgusted by the entire 100d situation, I have to support the idea of our descendants being able to appreciate their milk without their STRONGNESS getting in the way  
CT: D --> It is one of my biggest regrets from my wigglerhood  
CG: AUGH!  
CG: FINE!  
CG: I’LL DO IT.  
CG: WHEN I FUCK UP AS USUAL THOUGH, I GET TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE RIFT CARBUNKLE TO HEAR ME IN ITS ABYSMALLY DEEP FEEDING TRENCH.  
CG: UNDERSTOOD?  
GA: Perfectly.  
GA: At The Risk Of Copying My Moirail I Believe A Smile May Be Appropriate Here  
GA: Because This Is A Most Exciting Venture  
GA: Though I Will Refrain From Duplicating Her Crown And Goggles  
GA: :D  
CT: D --> Indeed  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: YEAH OKAY.  
CG: ALRIGHT.  
CG: JUST WAIT AND SEE.  
CG: I CAN DO THAT.  
CG: FOR NOW THOUGH I NEED TO FIND MY MISSING FUCKASS MOIRAIL.  
CG: SO I CAN PUNCH HIM FOR LEAVING ME ALONE.  
GA: Take Care Karkat  
CG: YEAH SEE YOU.  
GA ceased responding to memo.  
CT: D --> I must also depart  
CT: D --> I have the need to find Nepeta and speak with her regarding all of this  
CT: D --> Will you truly be alright on your own, Karkat  
CT: D --> I can postpone our feelings jam and bring her along to keep you company if you have need of us  
CG: NO I’LL BE FINE.  
CG: IT’S NOT LIKE ANYONE WOULD DARE TO SET FOOT ON THE BEACH HERE ANYWAY.  
CG: THAT’S WHY WE CHOSE FOR ME TO STAY HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, REMEMBER?  
CG: GO SPEND TIME WITH NEPETA.  
CG: WE’LL CATCH UP AGAIN LATER.  
CT: D --> If you are sure about it  
CT: Yes.  
CT: D --> <3  
CG: <3

CG closed memo.

####  Karkat: Be the missing murderclown.

You can definitely up and do that, bro. You are down, down, down with the clown. Literally.

You are Gamzee Makara, next in line to claim the title your ancestor’s held for, in your opinion, way too motherfuckin’ long.

At the moment you’re holdin’ your breath, scopin’ out the water between your beach and Fishsis’s hive. There was a right sticky motherfucker up and spyin’ on your palebro the other night when he got away from you. He was all heat-crazy and seein’ shit what wasn’t there. So’s you owe it to him to get rid of them what thinks they can cull him, especially when he ain’t in his right mind cuz of shit his body got on to doin’ without his say so.

Your palebro’s a miracle himself. All up and descended from that miracle motherfucker what wanted peace when your ancestor was young and new to the throne. You got the full story from Fishsis, cuz she’s chill like that, and she got it from her lusus, cuz _it’s_ chill like that. You got special word from the messiahs on high that you had to make sure your shouty little diamond made it all the way to adulthood, and carried on that motherfuckin’ miracle bloodline all like he was supposed to. You don’t ask why. That’d ruin the miracles. But you do know there’s a good chance, since over half of them little miracle eggs are yours, that Karbro’s gonna need water to keep them healthy until they hatch. So you gotta make extra shore—heh—that the reef’s all nice and tidy safe without any of them violent violet motherfuckers what don’t have the sense to keep outta your surf.

And you got the lungs to do it.

You surface, blinkin’ your hair outta your eyes, and exhale, slow and steady like so’s you don’t go lightheaded and fuzzy up in your brain meats. Karbro’s always goin’ on about how you should take it easy with those cuz of how you don’t got many of them to spare. It’s sweet, but he don’t know the truth. You got plenty of brain meats, you got enough to know exactly what you’re doin’ and more. Even Fishsis knows you ain’t stupid.

You haven’t had a pie with real sopor in it since you were six, but you’ve kept up the act. Only ones to see through it have been Fishsis and Spidersis. Of course, that’s cuz the three of you think alike. You think maybe your spade gets it too. After all she’s pretty damn sly her own self.

Thinkin’ about her gets your blood boilin’. You haven’t seen her all perigee. You know why, and really you don’t think Karbro could’ve handled five pails of slurry anyway, but still! Seein’ his nook all bruised and painted in olive would’ve given you such a pitch fit with the hateful sis you up and got your spade on with.

You lick your lips, eyes and ears alert even as you promise yourself that next time. After this clutch gets its motherfuckin’ hatch on. You’ll bring in Kittysis and pitch pail her through Karbro. Maybe she’ll give you a couple more of them delicious scars like the ones over the bridge of your nose! Wicked shit that midblood motherfucker!

####  Gamzee: Scent trouble.

Your nose gives a twitch, pullin’ you outta your nightdreams like a sharkbro what’s got his smell on a fine motherfucker bleedin’ hisself through the water. Your eyes dilate and you sink until only your nose, eyes, and horns are above the tide. There’s a motherfucker on your beach. And it ain’t a motherfucker you get your recognize on with.

Your clubs are in your hands before you even start movin’ towards the sand, and you’re quieter than even fishsis can be.

Smells like a tealblood.

You’ve got red, bright as your miraclebro’s blood, seepin’ into your vision as you realize the doomed intruder is actually headed for your hive. Bet the motherfucker smells Karbro. You spotted him on the front porch a couple hours ago when Empress Moon was still high in her blankets.

He’s long gone now, but if’n that motherfucker don’t back off right the fuck now, you’re not gonna leave a smear in the sand for Karbro to even smell, and he don’t scent so good.

You growl, deep and intimidatin’, not wastin’ words.

They freeze, seemin’ly aware of what they’re doin’, and nose high in the air, they look for you. But they ain’t gonna find you. You got your ways of movin’ around your territory that ain’t even Spidersis been able to see with her vision eightfold.

You growl again, rattlin’ the tiny grains near their feet, and they turn just in time to meet your lefthand club with their face!

The blood, too bright to be teal, too dark to be cerulean, sprays up across your mouth and nose and you laugh! Honkin’ and cacklin’ like the mad motherfucker you are!

Your right hand must get itself pretty fuckin’ jealous cuz it gets its swing on hard enough to shatter somethin’ that tinkles when you hit it again. That pretty blue smears all over the sand and you as you jump up and bring both clubs down at the same time. There’s a squish beneath your knees. You think maybe there was somethin’ up inside that trespassin’ motherfucker what popped when you landed on it cuz they ain’t tryin’ to fight back too hard anymore. Not that they had much of a chance to get their fight back on anyway!

Your voice is echoin’ back to your ears from the cliffside rocks, manic and high pitched with your honks. You don’t really have the attention for it cuz of how you’re makin’ damn fuckin’ sure this motherfucker ain’t gettin’ back up again.

There’s a voice what breaks through your MOTHERFUCKIN’ rage, and a tiny hand so fuckin’ warm it almost burns your water chilled hide paps your cheek. Your eyes focus and you nuzzle into the hand, floodin’ your thinkpan with the one scent you ain’t never gonna forget, no matter how deep in the ‘doos you get. Your mouth gets its smile on all by itself and that tells your shoulders to up and relax so’s you’re short enough to headbump the miracle motherfucker what’s shooshin’ your highblood ass.

He’s so squishy and sweet like that. Just wades right into your killzone with all the shameglobes of Fishsis and plants one right across your cheek, all warm and fuzzy like, so’s you don’t go too crazy killin’ motherfuckers. It don’t even matter that he up and gets blood all over hisself. He just barges hisself right in there anyway. It’s a motherfuckin’ miracle.

“Hey, Karbro.” Your voice is all harsh and whimsical at the same time; you must’ve been screamin’ somethin’ awful for it to be like that. “What’s new?”

He don’t answer right away, his face is all scrunched up, lookin’ like he’s about to get his shout on, but his lip’s all a quiverin’ like it don’t agree with that idea and his ganderbulbs seem to wanna get their cry on at the same time. So he’s fightin’ hisself.

“Hey, shoosh, motherfucker, your words is all tryin’a come out your looksockets at me.”

The grin you give him seems to be the wrong expression cuz he gets hisself sorted out good enough to get that big ol’ inhale on what you know comes before them loud shouty bits that means he was good and worried about your ass. He ain’t gotta be, but he does it anyway. Always makes you feel sorta sorry for gettin’ him that way. You don’t rightly hear what he’s goin’ on about, but you think it’s probably cuz of you bein’ gone when he woke up.

“But, Karbro… I had to get my hunt on. Otherwise them miracle motherfuckers’d starve, and that just ain’t a thing I wanna see happen.” Your ears tilt down and you’re hunched over so’s your lookin’ up at him.

His eyebrows do the jumpy thing that means he’s tryin’ to stay mad but it ain’t workin’. He growls and cuffs you about the noggin’ before haulin’ your horns around to hug your head to his chest. You tilt your horns outta the way and it presses your ear against his belly. You wouldn’t fight the smile on your face even if you wanted to, it’s just too motherfuckin’ great that he’s all stuffed up with them miracles. Your hands get in on the action and you’re purrin’ deep and broken through your worn chatterbox as he cards his fingers through your hair, grumblin’ and mutterin’ the whole time about how stupid you are and how much work he’s gonna up and have cleanin’ you up again.

You let him haul you to your feet, though you do most of the work cuz of his grubs gettin’ their grow on in his belly, and you follow behind him, lettin’ his litany of swearwords lull you into a happy stupor. At least on the outside. Inside you’ve got your ears and eyes gettin’ their look and hear on, makin’ sure no more of them intrudin’ motherfuckers ain’t hangin’ around your beach.

That teal’s the fourth one you’ve put down since you first stuffed your bro after that olive, and they’re climbin’ the hemospectrum like they think there’s a troll on Alternia what can take you down. The way you figure they’ll try the other three colors before they send another ‘doos-user after you. You ain’t worried. Ain’t a motherfucker on the planet what can stand up to you. Even Eqbro at his STRONGEST. Doesn’t seem to stop motherfuckers from tryin’ though.

He pulls you into the ablutionblock, and you cock a smile at him, ‘doos still hummin’ high and hot to keep the beach clear.

“Strip.” He grumbles.

Motherfucker’s always grumblin’, it’s like he ain’t got another tone of voice except angry and angrier. So, you shuck off your clothes, shirt and pants and shorts, all balled up and tossed in the corner like it ain’t a thing. It makes him growl, but he focuses on pushin’ you into the waterchamber.

He joins you a couple lost minutes later, mutterin’, “Can’t even fucking turn on the damn water when you’re like this. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, sponge for brains. I can see it in your ganderbulbs. That was the only one, I’m sure of it. I’d smell them if there were more of them.”

You don’t bother tellin’ him he’s wrong, you just shrug and smile again. “Ain’t a thing, Karbro. Just keepin’ a listen out.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know your version of listening. Just stand still and let me do this shit.”

He’s got his hands all up in your hair, rubbin’ the soap in it all rough and gentle at the same time just like he always does. It’s part of why you’re so so pale for him. He knows just how hard to scrub to get all the nasty shit outta your hide, but he’s soft enough to get all up around your hornbases when you’re usin’ your ‘doos so that he don’t mess with your reception and don’t get hisself shocked in the process neither. Even Tavbro can’t do that and he’s about the gentlest motherfucker you ever did pity.

Karbro gets in there, combin’ the tangles out, and washin’ the salt and sand and blood from all those tiny places you can’t rightly get into yourself. Makes your pumpbiscuit flutter at him in sweet pity, it’s warm and soothin’ and just the right amount of platonic to let him get into your bulgeslit and nook without it makin’ a big deal. Gets you all kinds of clean by the time he’s done.

Then he just sort of stands there, starin’ down at hisself, arms at his sides, the tips of his ears flushed that pretty pink he gets when he’s all embarrassed about shit.

“What’s up, motherfucker?”

He mutters somethin’ you’re sure wasn’t supposed to be heard, but you done got your hearin’ on anyway. “Need you to wash me. Can’t reach my nook.”

####  Gamzee: Wash your moirail.

You don’t even say a thing. You just take that cleanin’ sponge and soap it up real good. You start with his back, runnin’ your hand down his spine. He’s always so fuckin’ tense, so you’re rubbin’ out them knots and he’s leanin’ on you all clingin’ to you like you ain’t the only thing floatin’ away on him. He’s moanin’ out somethin’ in a string of colors so bright it makes your ‘doos shiver.

It’s an unconscious thing when you reach into his mind and lift them motherfuckin’ fears off his pan. The fact that this happens right as you rub your washin’ cloth over his grubscars… well that’s just a motherfuckin’ miracle is what it is. And he lets you know it too, pressin’ his face into your neck like you just done him the most wicked of favors.

He’s mouthin’ along your collar bone. Gettin’ his nibble on as you clean down his behind over his wastchute and between his legs without touchin’ his nook. His hair’s stickin’ to your skin and his pretty little horns are right there near your lips, so you just let your tongue get its lick on, soakin’ up the scent of him over your soft pallet.

He moans about that.

Everythin’ about Karbro is short and stubby. From his miracle graspin’ prongs to his horns to that sweet as spun candy bulge what’s getting its feel on all over your thigh. He’s normally wider than you, and dense, like a big ol’ boulder. Now, with that belly full of eggs, he’s even more like a boulder, round and hard. It’s tough to keep your hands off it, you just wanna pet him all over. And for the moment he’s more than okay with that.

Cuz he ain’t in heat anymore, your bulge don’t have any want to come out and play with him, but that don’t mean you can’t help a brother get his shameglobes emptied. So, you reach down below his belly, runnin’ the back of your hand over the skin so’s he can feel you before you wrap your hand around his bulge. He’s moanin’ and clingin’ to you harder before you even actually touch his soft spots, and when you do he flings his head up to bare his throat, warblin’ high and long. You shoosh into his ear and stroke him with a couple fingers before lettin’ the others get their walk on to the swollen folds of his nook. Once there you slip a couple in, mindful of your claws, and tease the puffy sphincter Kansis told you was all up and sealed to keep them miracle motherfuckers snug and tight up inside him. She also told you it was why he’d wanna get off like this, pressin’ against the back of his shameglobes like a fleshy nookball. The kind that folks use to up and get their pleasure on without bulge-in-nook stimulation. And that’s how you’re usin’ the thing, rollin’ it gently against his shameglobes while he claws up your shoulders with them blunt fingertalons of his.

You curl your fingers and shift you palm, grindin’ gentle circles into the underside of his bulge, pinnin’ it between your hand and his belly, and oh the music comin’ from your palebro’s mouth parts! If you were a shade redder for this motherfucker you’d be all up and quadflippin’ on him like you did when he was in heat. But you ain’t, so’s all you get from the scents he’s givin’ off right now is a pleasant little flutter in your own nook what’s easily ignored in favor of pushin’ your bro higher.

“G-G-Gamzee-ee-ee.” He stutters, nook givin’ your fingers a big ol’ squeeze, and his bulge pulses.

“Yeah, bro. Yeah.”

“I gotta… I gotta… I…”

“Cum, motherfucker, ain’t a thing.”

“G-G-GAAHHH!!!”

He’s clingin’ to you like a lifeline and that pretty pretty carmine flows all over your hand and arm and down his legs, rivers of it, just like he oughta, like he ain’t been able to do since before he went into heat with Eqbro. He’s shudderin’ from the climax so hard his teeth are up and gettin’ their chatter on. His eyes ain’t focused, and you flutter your fingertips, playin’ his body like a stringed music maker.

Pretty soon he’s whimperin’ and you pull your hand away, wipin’ him down with the washin’ sponge all gentle like cuz he’s sensitive. His bulge is back behind its bone, the sheatheslit all sealed up good, if a little swollen cuz of the pressure behind it. You eye him from your place on your knees when you’re washin’ his legs, and you figure another week or so and he won’t be able to keep it tucked away inside. Kansis said that might happen since he’s so stocky and all. Them miracles’ll be pushin’ from the outside, stealin’ on the space his bulge is supposed to take up.

You shove the thought away with a pulse of your ‘doos, and stand back up to give him a pale kiss. He’s putty in your hands when he’s like this. All pleasured out and pliable. You could do anythin’ to him. Makes a motherfucker get ideas if it weren’t so stupid of him. He can’t think you’d ever wanna hurt him, so he gets his trustin’ on in ways that ain’t right for a motherfucker like you, and you know it. Makes you pity him more, which is probably a good thing, since otherwise you’d have panwashed him and probably fed him to Spidersis’ mom if you didn’t.

You ain’t a nice troll, no matter how much Karbro likes to think you are.

You shove them thoughts away too, cuz for him you’ll pretend to be nice, pick him up all gentle and sweet-like, carry him to the respiteblock, sink him in the sopor to rest until you’ve got the food all done up for him. He grabs your arm as your pullin’ away though, and glares, fuzzy with orgasm, up at you from under them heavy dark brows.

“Don’t leave again.”

There’s a note in his voice, makes your bloodpusher skip a beat, and you’re shakin’ your head before you even realize you’re doin’ it. That’s a stupid, motherfuckin’ idea there, bro. You can’t be all up and stayin’ all the time. You gotta hunt. You gotta patrol. You gotta kill or you’ll turn on him. It’s just the way of it. You’re a wild motherfucker what needs open space and no chains tyin’ you down or you’ll go panfried. Especially since you’re off the pies.

But your mouth and voicebox get their speak on before you can stop ‘em. “Sure thing, bro. Ain’t even gonna leave the lawnring unless I hafta ‘til them miracle motherfuckers are out here where we can hold ‘em. Good?”

“Good.” He’s noddin’ off or he’d give you an earful, you’re sure of it.

You wait until he’s good and out before you leave the block, a pit of darkness brewin’ in your guts. There’s trouble on the horizon, you can feel it without even needin’ your ‘doos.

####  Gamzee: Break your promise.

No way, no how, motherfucker. You are better than fuckin’ that.

You have to admit you’ve been all up and tempted a couple of times over the last perigee, ever since that tealblood what up and got theirself murdered under your clubs, but every time you start thinkin’ about headin’ out to sea for a couple of hours, you get a big ol’ gander at Karbro and it stops you.

Everynight he’s gettin’ bigger. He’s taken to wearin’ your shirts around the hive cuz you’re big enough that it almost covers his belly, but he can’t wear his pants anymore. The zipper won’t zip, and last mornin’ when you got him off in the shower that bulge thing Kansis was warnin’ you about happened. But it’s all good. The thing don’t do much when he ain’t actually worked up. It just sorta hangs out, like it ain’t even a thing. You can’t even see it from the front, the bottom curve of his belly hides it.

Karbro gets the cutest little blush on though. All pretty and pink across his nose and up the edges of his ears. And you know from when Tavbro does it, they’d flutter if they weren’t so small.

Speakin’ of Tavbro. You wonder what your most flushed of flushes is doin’ right now while you’re gettin' your sprawl on all over the relaxation platform.

####  Gamzee: Troll your matesprit.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling adiosToreador [AT].

TC: :o) HeEeEeY, bRo!   
AT: hEY, uHH, gAMZEE,,,   
AT: hOW’S THINGS,   
AT: }:o)   
TC: GoOd, BrO, gOoD.   
TC: ThInGs aRe aLl kInDs oF MoThErFuCkIn gOoD Up iN HeRe.   
AT: tHAT IS, uH, gOOD TO HEAR, tHEN,,,   
AT: hOW’S KARKAT,   
TC: AwWwWw, My mIrAcLe mOtHeRfUcKeR Is aLl kInDs oF GoOd tOo.   
TC: He’s bEeN GeTtIn tHaT MoOdY SwInG ThInG YoU WeRe tElLiN Me aBoUt tOo.   
TC: YoU SaId tHaT WaS A GoOd sIgN ThAt tHeM MiRaClEs wHaT ArE Up iNsIdE HiM ArE GeTtIn tHeIr gRoW On jUsT RiGhT, yEaH?   
AT: yEAH,,,   
AT: iF HIS BODY ACTS LIKE A, lUSUS, wOULD,,,   
AT: i’VE NEVER, yOU KNOW, dEALT WITH TROLLS, dOING THIS,,,   
AT: sO, iT SHOULD BE GOOD, bUT YOU, uHH, mIGHT WANT TO CHECK WITH, kANAYA,,,   
AT: tO MAKE EXTRA SURE,,,   
TC: WiLl dO, mOtHeRfUcKeR!   
AT: aLRIGHT, tHEN I’LL, uHH, lET YOU GET TO IT, i GUESS,   
TC: ThAt aIn’t tHe oNlY ReAsOn a bRoThEr uP AnD MeSsAgEd hIs mOsT ReDdEsT Of rEd hEaRtS, bRo.   
AT: oH,   
TC: NaH, cAn’t a mOtHeRfUcKeR MiSs yOu?   
TC: I MeAn, KaRbRo’s mY BeSt fRiEnD AnD I PiTy hIm wItH ThE PaLeSt sHaDeS Of mY PuMpBiScUiT.   
TC: BuT A MoThErFuCkEr cAn’t lIvE On dIaMoNd sHoOsHpApS AlOnE.   
TC: >;o)   
TC: > ;o)   
TC: >;o)   
TC: If’n yOu cAtCh mY DrIfT, tAvBrO.   
TC: <3   
AT: oH, yEAH,,,   
AT: cONSIDER, iT THOROUGHLY CAUGHT,,,   
AT: tHE, cAUGHTEST OF CAUGHT,   
AT: <3   
AT: bUT, uHHH, eXCUSE ME, iF I, uH, gOT THIS WRONG, bUT,,,   
AT: dIDN’T YOU SAY, yOU WERE GOING TO, uH,,,   
AT: tO PUT IT, bLUNTLY,,,   
AT: bE HAVING THOSE SORTS OF, uH, sHOOSHPAPS BECAUSE OF, tHIS,   
TC: ThAt wAs oNlY WhEn hE WaS In hEaT, bRo.   
TC: YoU AiN’T GoT YoUr mAd oN AbOuT It, Do yOu?   
TC: :o(   
AT: nO!   
AT: sEE, yOU CAN TELL I MEAN IT BECAUSE, i USED A SHOUT POLE, tO SAY IT,,,   
AT: }:o)   
TC: :o)   
TC: :o)   
TC: I StIlL WaNnA Up aNd sEe yOu sOmEtImE SoOn.   
TC: I WaSn’t pLaYiN WhEn i sAiD I WaS MiSsIn yOuR SwEeT HoRnS.   
TC: ;o)   
AT: gAMZEE, yOU’LL, mAKE ME, bLUSH,,,   
TC: >;o)   
AT: i, sHOULD BE ABLE TO, cOME BY, sOMETIME,,,   
AT: kARKAT SHOULD ONLY HAVE, uH, aBOUT A PERIGEE LEFT,,,   
AT: iF I’M COUNTING RIGHT FROM WHAT YOU SAID, aBOUT WHAT KANAYA SAID, aBOUT IT,,,   
TC: YeAh, BrO.   
TC: KaNsIs iS RiGhT On wItH ThOsE ThInGs.   
TC: AnD I   
AT: aND YOU,   
AT: gAMZEE,,   
AT: aRE YOU THERE,,,   
AT: }:(

####  Gamzee: Answer Tavros.

You can’t be motherfuckin’ doin’ that right now, bro. On a count of you havin’ to set this blueblooded motherfucker what thinks just cuz you weren’t outside patrollin’ he could come crashin’ onto your beach like he owns the fuckin’ place, breakin’ up your lawnring like it ain’t a thing what ought to be there!

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!”

You give him your harshiest whimsy you can muster.

Karbro’s somewhere behind you, hidin’ like a good little fucker should, so’s he doesn’t get hurt when clubs go flyin’.

You’re ampin’ up your ‘doos to the point where it’s getting’ hard for you to think at all, and still this fucker ain’t backin’ down. You’re standin’ on your front walk where you tossed the motherfucker from not a couple minutes ago, hands in fists at your sides, and all your vicious motherfuckin’ teeth out for that trespassin’ asshole to get his gander on at. Your eyes are all the way red, and some part of your pan what knows what you’re like when you’re like this tells you that if you get violent you’re gonna have to take a good long swim before you can trust yourself to let Karbro shoosh you.

You gotta work out the built up RAGE!

But he’s a smart motherfucker. He’s stayin’ back, outside of your lawnring, pacin’ back and forth like he wants to fight you, but he ain’t got the shameglobes to actually step inside your hive territory. And you can’t go chasin’ after him cuz of both your promise to your bro and your ‘doos are tellin’ you that if you take off, he’s gonna run, and if he runs, you’re gonna chase. And if you chase him out across the beach somethin’s gonna happen to your palefucker while you’re busy. You got an itch between your horns what tells you there’s probably a cerulean around.

So, you ain’t goin’ nowhere!

He roars back at you, and you take a half-step towards him, clubs in your hands and shoulders tense, tauntin’ him with your ‘doos to try and get him closer. He’s got a wire or somethin’ in his ear, so you’re pretty sure he’s got somebody talkin’ in his ear, keepin’ him from fuckin’ up their plan. But they’re in for a big surprise.

You feel it comin’ before he even makes a move.

Another big roar, and you duck, laughin’ at the stunned expression on the blueblood’s face when your bro’s sickle appears in the middle of his chest like it got its grow on like a plant, bloomin’ up outta his thoracic cage. His blood wets the front of his shirt, and he’s pullin’ and scrabblin’ at the weapon. But he don’t have even a half of your quadcorner’s STRENGTH. Karbro’s trained in throwin’ against Eqbro’s defense. You’re about the only motherfucker tough enough to handle it other than Eqbro hisself. So that blueblood’s good and dead before he even hits the sand.

You give a creepy honk, usin’ the echoes like sonar in your ‘doos.

Smart little blue-psychic-sis. She done ran off when her partner got hit.

The grin you got painted on your face cracks the actual paint you put on tonight, and Karbro shakes his head at you. He pushes against your forehead, cuz you’re in a laughin’ mirthful mood now, so he don’t have to shoosh you too much, just a couple of not-quite paps’ll do you to relax again.

“I told you last time you had to clean up nookfestering bilgerats off the beach. There are better ways to cull them than beating them into a bloody pulpy stain in the sand. With his corpse laying out there, maybe others will have the capacity to use their thinkpans for a change and stay the fuck away from your territory. I swear some of these trolls have a death wish and come here deliberately knowing that you’ll kill them!” He throws his hands up into the air and gets his waddle on back into the hive.

He don’t know it, but after his hands come back down from where he threw ‘em, one of them gets their pettin’ on to his belly, like he’s soothin’ them miracles after all the harshwhimsy what was flyin’ about outside.

You nod along absently, floppin’ back down on the couch in front of your husktop, watchin’ him as he goes about pickin’ shit up and movin’ it about in that way he’s been doin’ for a couple of nights now. He’s still rantin’ about what stupid idiots them asshole trespassing motherfuckers are, and his vocabulary’s a full spectrum more creative than yours. So you halfway tune him out tryin’ to remember what it was you were doin’ before that blueblood corpse interrupted your mirthful relaxation.

####  Gamzee: Remember Tavros.

Oh shit! Yeah! Tavbro!

You pull up trollian, but he’s signed off. You frown and sigh, understandin’ that grumpy face your palebro usually wears for once. So you send your flush a message explainin’ what all happened, and how you’re real motherfuckin’ sorry for just up and leavin’ like that. You also tell him how fuckin’ wicked Karbro’s throw was, and how he’s gonna have to tell Eqbro their trainin’ is payin’ off. You end your message with a <3 and sign off. Tavbro’ll get it when he gets back on again.

####  Weeks in the future, but not many.

You are Gamzee Makara and it’s most of another perigee after that motherfucker Karbro up and impaled before you sense the not-Spidersis blueblood psychic what tickled the edges of your ‘doos again. You’ve been waitin’ for her truth be told. You felt her sneak off outta your ‘doos range and have been waitin’ on her to get up the globes to come try her luck again without the help of her musclebeast cohort. She’s taken her damn sweetass time doin’ it too. You were startin’ to lose what little respect she’d earned with that ploy to try and separate you from your bro.

You have to hand it to her, if you hadn’t grown up with Spidersis, you might just have been fooled by that plan. Come to think of it, you should probably tell Spidersis about it too. She’d wanna know she up and helped make you smarter thanks to the games she up and pulled, even if they did get your Tavbro seriously hurt when you were little. It’s all good though. She done made up for it by gettin' Eqbro to cook up some of them miracle robo-legs what help your flush walk around and shit.

A stronger tickle between your horns tells you that you’re spacin’ out, and it feels enough like Spidersis to remind you not to do that.

Karbro’s waitin’ in the nutritionblock. It’s the most sheltered block in your hive cuz it’s in the middle. And you’re stalkin’ through the sandgrass behind your lawnring to get to the cliff face. Nobody but you knows about the handholds in the rocks there cuz of how you’re the one that put ‘em there.

Your ‘doos have told you not-Spidersis is somewhere above your hive in the back. So you’re gonna take care of it. Silent as only you can be, you make your way up to her, Lefty held at the ready. She’s so focused on tryin’ to find you, that she’s not payin’ attention to the shadows all around her, and that’s why she’s gonna end up on the other end of your clubs. If she was half as smart as Spidersis, she’d have known not to get mixed up in whatever this thing is what’s got everybody fightin’ off people tryin’ to kill your moirail.

Your harshwhimsy has echoes of yourself and Karbro bouncin’ all over the beach as you come up behind her. She’s tiny thing, all rumblespheres and glutes, very little muscle on her arms and legs, which is another reason she’s stupid. Anybody with that much extra paddin’ wouldn’t last ten perigees out in the fleet.

She notices you a minute too late, and you drink in the taste of her terror when her eyes go wide as she recognizes you. Lefty does his job, bashin’ in her right temple hard enough that her horn goes bouncin’ off to the side and a spray of blood explodes out through her left temple from the shock of your ‘doos makin’ Lefty stronger. Righty’s jealous, but you promised Karbro you wouldn’t be messy tonight. You told him you’d just kill her, and leave her for the heinous broods of the undead what get their wander on up from Kansis’ old hive.

So you do just that, flickin’ off the blood from Lefy, and makin’ your way back down the cliff to tell your bro it’s all good. The way you figure it, there’s only the violet and the ‘doos-user to go, if whoever these motherfuckers are really wanna work their way all the way up the hemospectrum. At least you know you won’t have to worry about a tyrian. Fishsis lives close enough to the edge of your reef, in the trench just beyond it, that if there was one that tried to show up, it’s already dead. She’s even more vicious with rivals than you are. It’s one of the motherfuckin’ miracles you love about her.

At the door to your hive, you stop. There’s somethin’… You don’t know what. It’s not a tickle, like psionics. It’s not a bloodroar, like another ‘doos-user. And it ain’t a crawl up your spine like you get when Ghostsis gets her chatter on with the dead. You can’t figure out what it is, but it’s got you growlin’ low and menacin’ like in your throat. You scan the edge of the cliff and the water for movement, spread your ‘doos out as thin as you can get ‘em for range. But nothin’.

You shake your head, chalkin’ it up to post-cullin’ heebie-jeebies, and make your way inside, dismissin’ it. It must’ve been nothin’.

Except you could’ve sworn you felt like somebody else was watchin’ you.

####  Gamzee: Be Somebody Else.

You are now Somebody Else, and for now you’d prefer wwho you are—you mean, _who_ you are to remain a secret.

Wwhy? Ack! You mean _why_?

Because you are a spy, and you have been burdened with glorious purpose. The kind that if you do it right, will get you a ticket straight into the history books alongside your ancestors and the approval of the imperial throne herself! You’re sure of it! In fact you’re more sure of this than you have been about just about anything else since you first agreed to play double agent.

They all think you’re working with them. HA! As if you’d ever betray your empress that way! But they never really knew you anyway. None of them appreciated you. Least of all _her!_ You did everythin’ for her an’ she took off wwith that loser lowwblood an’ his loser friends. You’ll kill them all evventually. It’s part a wwhat you wwere promised!! An’ then they’ll be sorry! Sorry they evver treated you like that!

Wwhat wwere you sayin’?

Oh!

Right! Undercover!

You’ve been stationed just outside of the purpleblood’s territory and have used your knowledge of guerilla warfare to mask your scent and dampen your thoughts. As long as you don’t get too agitated, the chucklefuck can’t sense you, and you’re free to watch the abomination you can’t believe you used to call a friend grow bigger and bigger like a weather balloon. You can’t even imagine letting yourself go like that. What is he doing all night long? Stuffing his gob and sitting around watching shitty movies??

He must be, because in the three perigees you’ve been watching, even since the incident with the oliveblood on the beach, all he’s been doing is getting fatter and fatter. You shudder to think about losing your streamlined shape that way and there have been times where you had to actually excuse yourself or you felt like you were going to be sick all over your precious uniform!

You wisely left that part out of your reports. Not only would abandoning your post lose you points with your boss, it means that you could have missed something, but you’re sure you haven’t. You know Kar well enough to speculate on what he’s doing while you’re not watching him. You’re absolutely positive all he’s up to is eating and watching movies. And you proudly report as much every time your higher-ups contact you. They won’t know you’re fudging things anyway. They’re all pathetic blue and purplebloods, not even really royalty, like you. You’re above them, no matter what the paperwork says at the moment.

Ugh! You can’t watch this sickening display any longer!

The murderclown is out on the beach, chasing after the mutant. He doesn’t have to move very fast, because Kar is waddling badly, and huffing and puffing. And oh! Even if they weren’t landdwellers you’re pretty sure you’d be nauseous watching this happen. It’s obvious Kar’s pissed off, though when isn’t he really? You can’t make out what he’s saying thanks to the earmuffs you’ve got hiding your fins.

Whoops, you weren’t supposed to say that!

Ignore that last line! You don’t have fins. You never had fins. You…are disgusted at yourself for even thinking those thoughts! It’s not like anyone can hear your mental monologue about how you’re a proud seadweller anyway!!

Oh wait! What’s going on?

You really don’t want to look, but you know you have to for your job’s sake.

It seems Gam’s caught up to the blubberbutt, and is trying to talk him down. He’s making all kinds of wild arm gestures and looks really fucking unhappy. Not angry, which is a first for him. You think maybe he’s worried.

About what? Kar? Could they have discovered you were there?

You rip of your earmuffs, you HAVE to know if you’ve been compromised!!

“—just listen for a motherfuckin’ second, bro!”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve had me locked up in that godforsaken bulgetrap of a hive you call home for three perigees! THREE! I need to check on my dad and Sollux and Equius and we haven’t even heard from Nepeta. I need to go!!”

“No you don’t motherfucker. You just up and heard from Kittysis last night. It ain’t safe for you to leave yet!”

“Yes I do. Gamzee. I can’t stay still here. It’s wrong. There’s someplace else I need to go. I just can’t stay here anymore. I need to find someplace else to be.”

“What else place could there up and be where you’d be safe? You gotta stay here. There ain’t a way to get your miracle self out anyplace else. Ain’t that why we came up with you stayin’ here in the first place?”

The clown sounds like his begging, but there’s something about the way Kar’s acting that makes you think maybe he knows something he shouldn’t. Like maybe somebody’s told him about the plan to storm the beach. And that ain’t—fuck, isn’t!—good.

“Gamzee, if you don’t get the fuck out of my way, right the fuck now, I’m going to punch you! In the mouth! With my mouth! Until you’re bleeding on the sand and unable to move for how hard I’ve pailed you!!!”

“That’s some right wicked hate you’re brewing up under that anger there, bro. C’mon, let’s just jam it out. You don’t really wanna get your pitch on with me, think what Solbro would say.”

“If it gets you out of my fucking way I do!! I need to leave! Gamzee it isn’t safe here!!”

“Why, bro? Why ain’t it safe?”

“I don’t know. It just isn’t.”

They’ve shifted closer to you. They’re in your range of fire now, as a matter of fact. You could decaptchalogue your rifle and do what the Empress wants to do with him right now. Do away with the mutant and his far-too-loyal murderclown.

You bet they’d thank you. You bet, if you just popped them off, the Imperial Condescension herself would reward you for it. You could get off-planet! Get your own ship! Outshine your ancestor as the troll who took down the Second Sufferer.

You’re on your elbows and knees before you even finish the thought, your beloved heirloom, Ahab’s Crosshairs, in your hands and you’re staring down the scope, not even giving a fuck if they see you. They’re dead anyway.

Gamzee’s in the middle of a sentence when he whips around, purple-on-red eyes locked on you as you pull the trigger. There’s a flash of blinding purple-blue and your thinkpan goes fuzzy and there’s the stench of piss just before you know nothing.

####  Somebody Else: Explain what just happened.

You cannot. You are unconscious in a puddle of your own urine atop the cliff overlooking Gamzee’s beach.

####  Somebody Else: Alright, be Gamzee then.

You are Gamzee Makara and the world tastes of colors. It’s also sort of sideways and maybe a little bit fuzzy. You don’t think you can be you right now. You think maybe you should try to be somebody else because the last thing you remember before the world went all crazy is the feelin’ of lashin’ out with all of your ‘doos towards a backstabbin’ motherfucker what got the jump on you with a rifle. You’re pretty sure you fucked up him good though, before the pain knocked your senses sideways.

You think maybe you’re gonna be unconscious now.

That’s a thing.

It’s happening.

####  Gamzee: Be Karkat.

Oh god! Oh god oh god oh god! Gamzee! GAMZEE!! GAMZEE NO!!! NO!!!! NO!!!!!!!

####  Karkat: Be the ferocious mighty huntress in the woods.

The mighty huntress stalks through the trees on the far side of the beach, to the north of the great wide litter box, and above where Mr. Ampurra has staked out his spot for sniping. You are the best mighty huntress, it is you. And you are Nepeta Leijon, on your way to help defend your meowrail’s purrecious flushmate, Karkitty. All beclaws somebody leaked the infurmation that a certain catfish was going to try again.

You don’t know where his delusions came furrom, but he’s got to be stopped befur he does something he’ll seriously regret.

You keep your position close to the branches of the trees, as any good laughsassin should, and only drop down to the ground when the forest thins as you get closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. You aren’t worried about there not being a path here, you’ve used this side of the face many times in seeing your kismesis. You enjoy the extra challenge of sneaking onto his beach without him noticing you. Which is su-purr hard beclaws of his chucklevoodoos.

But that just makes the game more fun when you win!

You’re just about out of the trees when you hear Karkitty and Gamzee arguing. You frown, your ears twitching at the topic of their conversation, and you drop your pace to a slightly slower gait, something that makes it easier for you to scan the surrounding area and stay hidden. You’re absolutely certain that if Karkitty doesn’t feel safe, there’s a furry good reason fur it.

Fur a short while there’s nothing but the sounds of their voices, but then!

There’s a shot!

And screaming!

And just as you fling yourself over the last log before the cliff face, the stench of piss crosses your nose from your left around the edge of the beach. It’s pungent and stings your nose the way abject terror colors the scent. It’s the kind of uncontrolled release you’ve encountered only when the prey has lost its mind in hopeless fear.

There’s another scent on the air and you abandon your caution to fling yourself off the cliff. Twisting in midair like your lusus taught you, you squeeze your glove, and the middle of your claws rockets back the way you came, the spider-steel cable unwinding to give you a safety line. Your paws come up to catch yourself on the rocks, the built in toe-claws grasping footholds out of sheer stone, and you twist again to watch where you’re going as you repel down to the sand. It’s an easy flick of your wrist to bring your claw back, the cable retracting.

Then you’re off.

Running four-legged to gather speed and distance in galloping leaps from paws to hands to paws.

Sand sprays to the side as you skip to a stop across from Karkitty. He’s on his knees, shaking your kismesis harder than he should. Gamzee’s head flops back and forth like a limp scalemate, and there’s just. So. Much. Blood.

You are a mighty huntress. You’ve been bringing down kills since you pupated, gutting animals and tearing through flesh with teeth and claws all of your life. You’ve even taken out the odd troll or three when you needed to.

But this…

You’ve never seen a plasma wound up close. The flesh stinks. Rotten and liquefied around the edges. His bowel has been dissolved, and his stomach acid is eating through what the plasma didn’t. The muscle tissues are blackened with a rotten ooze clinging to them. The bones, bleached white from the energy, stick out at random angles from both thoracic cage and pelvic girdle. His entire midsection is just…gone. But for a layer of skin and tendons around his spine that is literally the only thing that saved Karkitty’s life.

You bring your hand to your mouth, choking back both rage and sorrow.

He’s gone.

Your kismesis.

The most wicked of motherfuckers you ever had the furtune to meet.

Olive clouds your vision for a moment, but you blink it away, scrubbing your wrist over your ganderbulbs. Karkitty needs you. He’s bleeding too and your meowrail would purrform an athletic maneuver off the deep end if anything more serious happened to him.

But, how are you going to get him away from Gamzee? By yourself?

####  Nepeta: Be rescued.

You don’t usually apurreciate people doing that, but in this case when a large hand lands gently on your shoulder, you are furry grateful you aren’t alone.

He’s nearly as tall as his matesprit was, and broader by far than even your meowrail. He’s got huge, fat, tears in pale caramel streaming down his face, and his lip keeps shaking. But he’s there fur you, fur Karkitty, fur efurryone. Just like always.

You don’t know what your face looks like, but he pulls you into his side between the thick trunk of his arm and the solid wrap of muscle around his thoracic cage. He hugs you fur a long minute, then lets you go with gentle cough.

“Vriska… found the body… she’s, uh, doing her thing with him now.” His voice isn’t as deep as Gamzee’s had been, but it still resonates and rumbles. It’s always reminded you a bit of bright season thunder mixed with Pounce’s purr. “Sollux says… if they get enough… they might… be able to, uh, do it… now.”

You nod, your voicebox all tight and not coopurrating.

He takes that as your full response, and moves over to gather Karkitty up in his arms. Your crossquad’s tired himself out from sobbing and you don’t blame him, but still he tries to hold onto the scraps that are left from your kismesis’ shirt.

He cries, and cries, and cries for weeks after it’s all over. You can’t even imagine what he’s feeling, beclaws you think you’d purrobably be in even worse shape if it had been Equius who’d sacrificed himself fur you.

####  Perigees in the future, but not many.

You are Karkat Vantas and you’re there when the survivors of your brood make it out of the caverns looking for their luscii. It’s unconventional, but then, the whole thing is unconventional.

You walk with a limp now. The bolt of plasma from Eridan’s rifle caught your right side in three places. Luckily it was your hipbone, your knee, and the side of your face, and not anything in between, because if that had happened you don’t think any of the clutch would have survived. You don’t hear very well out of that side, and the sclera of that eye is as red as the iris of the other, even though you can still make out blurry shapes with it. You walk with a cane, almost in spite of your matesprit’s continued attempts at convincing you to get it all replaced with robotics.

You don’t doubt he’s capable. He even managed to hold one of the deep indigo blue eggs before Kanaya majyyked them all away to a brooding cavern.

It’s just that to replace them, you think, would be an insult to _his_ memory, and the sacrifice he made making sure you survived.

Nobody knows why Eridan did what he did. There wasn’t enough left in his pan to explain it, and all Vriska could get about the mission was that he was dead-set sure that he was going to be a hero. What she was able to lift from his ruined mindscape was the exact location of the empress and her imperial fleet, providing the opportunity for a killing blow and thereby securing the empire for Feferi.

You don’t pay much attention to all of that. You prefer to keep to yourself, in your own hive, on the beach, where you can watch the sun rise and set every night.

You’ve found some solace in Nepeta, after all she lost a quadrantmate that night too, but it’s not a quad by standard definitions. She still has her serendipitous moirail and you both know that you only get one of those per lifetime. It’s not her fault that yours died. And of the other three options, her flushcrush on you died sweeps before either of you molted as adults, the hate just isn’t there for spades, and the only person she could really auspitize with you about is yourself. So, you both just let it be. You’re friends, and together with Tavros, you’re piecing your lives back into some semblance of sanity after the gaping hole the fishmongering douchefuck blew into it.

To that end Tavros has been a small help too. He’s not so good with trolls, but the shared silence whenever you helped him round up the luscii for the grubs was healing. He’s the one that told you about Gamzee’s lusus. Oh, you knew some. About how he’d disappear for perigees at a time, come back only to disappear again, but after hearing the full story you can’t stomach the idea of that happening to any of your moirail’s descendants. It’s how you two came up with the idea of gathering as many luscii as possible, and using his animal telepathy to screen them all for that kind of behavior.

You’re on edge as you wait, almost as nervous as the animals, but you can’t help yourself. You have to make sure each of the grubs that makes it out of the cavern gets a lusus. You’re grateful to Kanaya for letting you do it. You think maybe if you can just see it through, know that they all made it, that Gamzee’s death wasn’t in vain, you could move on. Maybe even… carry another clutch for her. With Feferi on the throne, and here on the planet, another Eridan won’t happen, she’s got safety protocols specifically for it. But still, you’re on the fence about it. Once bitten, twice fucking shy, and all that hoofbeastshit.

The sound of a biclops breaks through your train of thought and you jump. Shit! It’s starting!

The first grub out is a yellowblood, and he’s already flying! Shit his psionics are strong!! He’s gonna be a terror once he gets to adulthood if his wriggler level is that powerful. You smirk at how smug Sollux is gonna be, and how much fun you’ll have tearing his ego down the next time you see him. The biclops ambles off, swatting gently at the flying grub. It makes you freeze in fear, but Tavros assured you that none of the luscii chosen meant any harm. And it helps you content yourself with the fact that a wriggler that strong already is gonna be a real handful, so the biclops is probably in for the sweeps of its life anyway.

The thought makes you chuckle as you scan the entrance for the next one. There’s an odd feline looking musclebeast prowling the edge of the clearing around the cave, and you’d be worried but for the fact that you recognize it was one of the bluebloods. It seems to be looking for something though, so you suppose the next grub is an indigo like Equius. You aren’t disappointed when it appears, its tiny tuft of hair a mane-like Mohawk. The musclebeast picks it up and you hold your breath unconsciously. However, seconds later, the roar of pain comes from the lusus and you see the grub has latched onto its finger, actually breaking skin and you think maybe bone?

Damn! What’s with all of these grubs?! So far they seem more powerful than their slurry donors. Maybe that’s what Kanaya meant about the genetics being more pure. You have to shake your head as the trend continues with a mutantblood that looks like she’s got mushrooms for horns, and absolutely will not take any lusus except your own Crabdad, who gives you a look before picking her up and carrying her off.

You wish them well, and settle in to watch the rest. Blue, yellow, purple, another red, more blue, a couple of other purples. All total, once the luscii have all dispersed and you’re left alone with your thoughts, there were thirty that survive the brood. Not bad according to Kanaya’s numbers. You’re pretty sure how you were treated during your part of it had a lot to do with how strong they were, and with the number of them that survived the trials.

You jump down from your place in the branches of a tree where you’d been out of the way and hidden during the whole thing, and stick your hands in your pockets, smiling ruefully about the shit your moirail put up with when you were expecting. You’re almost falling into that familiar old pit of despair when you hear it.

It’s a strange sound, half sad half happy, like a music box that’s winding down, or a robotic toy losing power. But haunting in a way that captivates you, and draws you in even as it sends chills down your spine. With a frown on your face, you wander closer to it, and closer to the brooding cavern. It doesn’t sound like a drone, or a lusus, or even one of the jadeblood broodmaidens. The closer you get the more it sounds like singing! A small voice, echoing strangely through the stone.

It stops abruptly in a sharp “PEEP!” and you jump back, staring.

There, in the middle of the entrance, just before the open sky, is a grub. Bright purple, huge mop of hair, and horns that curl out, then in, then out again ever so gently. Its eyes are wide and almost glowing, the tickle of something that might eventually become chucklevoodoos shivers up your vertebrae column as you stare at each other.

You’re stock still and it peeps again, inching closer with its head tilted slightly to the side as if to say ‘what’s a motherfucker got hisself up to’.

You hold your breath, uncertain when you knelt down, as it climbs up your leg into your arms. Your eyes burn, and you hiccup. It’s only when the grub lifts its tiny legs to your face that you realize you’re crying, and it’s making some kind of croon that you think is supposed to be comforting.

You sniffle, and laugh. It laughs with you, tiny little honks that break your pumpbiscuit into a billion pieces and make you squeeze the tiny purpleblood closer to your cheek.

“You whimsical chucklefuck, what have you done to me.” You grumble, as the grub purrs and rubs its tiny horns against your ear. “C’mon, Wimzee, let’s go home.”

Nothing about this is conventional. But for the first time since this whole shitfest started, you think maybe that’s not such a bad thing.


End file.
